


Whisper in My Ear the Things You Want to Feel

by alison



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: A cat - Freeform, M/M, Palm Reading, Sexual Content, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 17:52:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alison/pseuds/alison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Tonight he's looking for something else, something that has nothing to do with Nick Grimshaw and everything to do with chain smoking alone on the dark, quiet patio.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whisper in My Ear the Things You Want to Feel

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written specifically for [Ava](http://androgylou.tumblr.com) as a thank you for being awesome and for the ridiculously sweet birthday gift. She asked for it to be canon, fluffy, smutty, not have an established relationship, and for Nick to have a cat that Louis doesn't get along with. So, this happened. It's super unbeta-ed.
> 
> Thank you, [Kay](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ImNotOhKay/pseuds/ImNotOhKay) for the help as always.

 

**Zero.**

“Fuck,” Louis mumbles, glancing over at the door as it swings open. He's been enjoying a nice, quiet smoke away from the constant noise of the liquor-infused crowd inside and now the biggest perpetrator of said noise is walking out onto the patio.

He's still not sure whose house he's at, never really knows when Harry drags him along to these things. It never really matters either. He just shows up and drinks someone else's booze and chats with strangers, sometimes even finding an attractive bloke to snog for a while in the loo. Not tonight, though. Tonight he's looking for something else, something that has nothing to do with Nick Grimshaw and everything to do with chain smoking alone on the dark, quiet patio.

“Tomlinson,” he says, nodding. To Louis' surprise, that's all he says before sitting down next to him on the step leading down to the back garden.

Whatever Louis is looking for, he won't find it here.

“Hope it's okay, me joining you,” Nick mutters around the unlit cigarette stuck between his lips.

Louis shrugs, not wanting to be a total prat, but not wanting to go on about how glad he is Nick's here when he really isn't. A flame erupts in the darkness as Nick lights his cigarette and it's a nice contrast to the chill in the air.

“Jesus, how long have you been out here?” Nick asks, spotting the small pile of cigarette butts by Louis' feet that he's accumulated.

“A bit.”

He's killing his lungs and probably his voice, he knows it, but smoking makes him feel pensive and it's that kind of night. He's totally trapped in his head, deep thoughts of nothing swirling around in his mind, and he's hoping one of those thoughts will edge out the rest and he's hoping it will mean something.

He's looking for something. He just doesn't know what it is.

“Sky looks nice tonight,” Nick says after a long silence, staring up.

Louis rolls his eyes, lighting yet another cigarette. “Why's everyone so bloody obsessed with the sky?”

Nick turns his head slowly, his eyebrows raised a bit, and he studies Louis' face for a moment.

“You're a real treat, you know that?” he says, flicking the dead ashes from his own cigarette before sticking it back between his lips and muttering around it. “Fine, let me see your hand.”

Louis doesn't know what he's on about, looking at the older man like he's gone mad. But, Louis supposes, he probably did that ages ago. Nick always did seem a bit off.

“Are you mad?” he asks softly, his head tilted to the side.

“Probably,” Nick concedes, pulling the cigarette from his lips and holding it between his fingers on his knee. “Hand.”

Louis sighs, taking a drag from his own cigarette, before he finally sticks out his hand, wondering what lunacy he's in for.

“Hippie friend taught me this,” he mumbles, turning Louis' palm up. With one hand of his own occupied holding his cigarette, he drops the back of Louis' hand onto Nick's leg, just above his knee.

As Nick's finger traces over one of the lines on his palm, Louis wants to roll his eyes, but the touch is so light it almost tickles him and a rush of energy floods his body at the sensation. He ignores it, though, pushes it away as Nick hums to himself, looking over Louis' hand.

“You're more realistic than creative. You think too much. And you- you don't talk about your emotions a lot, you keep them all bottled up,” Nick says, staring at Louis' hand, that finger tracing along one of the lines. Heart, head, life; he doesn't fucking know.

Then he stops, fingertip running over where two of the lines cross, and he says a quiet “oh”. Louis is ready to roll his eyes and yank his hand away because he obviously doesn't believe in this stuff and whatever bullshit Nick is about to tell him doesn't matter anyway.

“Not sure, mate, but I think that means your heart gets broken easily,” Nick says quietly, still touching Louis' palm, more casually now. “Could be wrong though. I was pretty stoned when I learned this stuff.”

The momentary anxiety Louis had felt dissipates at that and he does roll his eyes now, yanking his hand away and reaching for Nick's instead. “Well, let me have a go then.”

Nick produces his free hand, gesturing for him to go right ahead before he takes a drag from his cigarette. Louis holds the man's hand against his own thigh like Nick had done and he pretends to study the lines, when really he's just inwardly gawping at the size of it. His fingers are longer than any human fingers have any right to be and it actually sends a tingling spark down his spine, just looking at them, seeing them curl a bit when Louis runs his thumb over one of the lines on Nick's palm.

“I think this one says you're a self-absorbed prat,” Louis mumbles, smirking to himself.

Nick huffs as if he's offended and tries to pull his hand back, but Louis tugs it back onto his leg.

“I'm not _done_ , Nick, this is serious,” he says firmly, trying not to smile. “Okay, where was I?”

“Self-absorbed prat, I think,” Nick says thickly around the cloud of smoke escaping his lips.

“Right, yeah, and this line over here means you talk too much and, oh-” Louis gives his best concerned look, bit his lip a bit and glancing nervously up at Nick for a split second. “Yeah, it does look like you've gone mad.”

Nick shakes his head, smiling, and knocks his leg against Louis', trying to pull his hand back again, but Louis holds onto it, smiling to himself as he traces over a little break in one of the lines.

“This here?” he asks, staring at the crease on Nick's palm. “This means you're going to take me home tonight.”

When he looks up, Nick stares at him for a long moment, shaking his head with the hint of a smile lighting up his face, like he can't quite believe Louis, like he's trying to figure him out.

Louis sort of hopes he does.

 

**One.**

“Your cat is creepy,” Louis huffs as Nick kisses down his chest, trying to avoid the yellow eyes staring at him from the windowsill next to the bed.

It's been a week since Nick took him home that night, a week since Louis started feeling something, maybe even something he was looking for. It's been a week since he first felt Nick's fingers on his skin and it's been a week of Nick's creepy fucking cat watching them in bed.

“She doesn't like you,” Nick mumbles, wet lips dragging over Louis' nipple. “Probably because you don't like her.”

“Well, she nudged at my head while I was blowing you,” he says, voice hitching as Nick licks out over his swollen nub, then starts moving down further, kissing down to his stomach. “She's creepy and inappropriate.”

Nick sighs heavily over Louis' belly button, tongue licking out to dip into it, making Louis squirm when it tickles just enough to feel amazing.

“We could talk about my cat,” Nick mumbles, bringing his palm up to graze over Louis' boxer briefs. “Or I could suck you off and you could ignore her.”

It's obvious which option Louis will choose, of course. He spreads his legs, his back arching as he feels Nick's hot breath seeping through the material of his pants and spilling over his erection. But Nick still looks up, mouthing over the line of Louis' cock, eyebrows raised in a question.

“What'll it be?”

“Fuck, that- that's not a question,” Louis breathes, trying to rock up against Nick's mouth to get more friction. “Come on, stop teasing.”

Nick's grin is devilish where he fits his mouth over the end of Louis' cock through his pants. Between the warmth of Nick's mouth and the slight roughness of the cotton, Louis is soon reduced to begging.

“Nick, please, fuck,” he exhales. “Suck me, come on.”

As if that's all he was waiting for, Nick smirks and lowers Louis' pants, wrapping his soft, wet mouth around him and swallowing him down in one go. It makes Louis' head spin in the best way and he grips the sheets below him desperately, thoughts of Nick's fucking creepy cat erased from his mind completely.

 

**Two.**

There's a little balcony off of Nick's bedroom in his flat. He's on the fourth floor, so it overlooks the busy street below and, since they can't smoke inside, they often creep out into the cold London air after they've gotten each other off for a cigarette or two, just breathing in the freezing air along with the nicotine.

“You could fuck me, you know,” Louis says where he's straddling Nick's thighs. “Should. You should fuck me next time.”

Louis has felt Nick's fingers and his tongue inside him and he's had Nick's lips around him and his fingers gripping him, but he hasn't had all of it and he's starting to wonder why. It's been two weeks.

“Maybe I should,” Nick says, his cold fingers slipping under Louis' jumper and sliding up his back. “Don't think I will, though.”

Louis glares for a moment, a blaring car horn sounding through the night air. “You're a prick.”

Hesitating for just a moment, Nick nods slowly, thoughtfully. “That's the point, innit?”

“What's that mean?” Louis takes a drag from his cigarette, the thick smoke mixing with the fog of his breath as it pours out on an exhale.

The city is dying, sounds muffling as nighttime rolls in, and it's not exactly quiet but it feels calm, like everything's settling down somehow. Smoking always makes Louis feel pensive. He wonders if everyone changes at night.

“You get your heart broken easily,” Nick says slowly, his fingertips leaving trails of cold on Louis' back.

As Louis holds Nick's gaze, he decides that he likes his eyes a lot. Guarded and careful, but giving Louis glimpses of the real man underneath.

“You're a self-absorbed prat,” he whispers, catching Nick's lips, trapping smoke and cold between them where they meet.

When they finally climb inside, letting warmth wash over them again as they crawl under the covers in bed, Nick falls asleep quickly. He has to be up early for work, but Louis lies there, thinking into the darkness, wondering what any of this means. He turns onto his side, trying to get comfortable, and Nick reaches out in his unconsciousness, wrapping an arm around Louis' waist and pulling him closer to his chest.

For a moment, he lets his thoughts fade away, all of the colours of his mind turning to a dull grey until he's not really thinking at all.

Then, a furry beast crawls over the pillows and sits on Louis' forehead and he only has one thought left, bright red in a sea of grey.

They really have to start staying at Louis'.

 

**Three.**

When Louis has Nick's long fingers carefully opening him up and he's naked and spread out on the bed, he doesn't even feel exposed. He lets Nick stare at him, lets him see everything, and that's probably dangerous, but he doesn't much care right now. He's out of his head for one glorious moment and all of his thoughts are blanketed in that lovely grey.

When he hears the condom wrapper being torn open, he smiles. Everything they do is wonderful, every night he spends in Nick's bed leaves him feeling like he's floating, but he's been waiting for this. He's been needing more, all of it, everything.

Nick lowers, hovering just above him, and they kiss slowly, taking their time. He can feel the tip of Nick's cock rubbing against him, a warning of what's to come, and he spreads his legs wider, inviting him in.

“Please don't let me break your heart,” Nick mumbles, his lips just a hair off of Louis'.

But then he's pushing inside and any colourful thoughts that had formed in Louis' mind snap back to grey. He stops thinking altogether, too busy feeling instead.

It's so good, as good as Louis somehow knew it would be, and he feels it everywhere, all through his body. When Nick starts rocking into him slowly, Louis' head falls back, his lips parting so he can focus on just feeling.

He clings to Nick's shoulders as the movements get quicker and he loves this so much. He's always loved being fucked, but this is something more than that. It's probably because he's been waiting three weeks, but right now he feels desperate somehow, doesn't want Nick to ever leave. He wants to stay in Nick's bed with Nick's cock inside of him forever, if possible.

“Good?” Nick asks, voice quiet.

Louis wishes he could explain it to him. He wishes he could sum up what he's feeling with words, but he doesn't know what those words are. He doubts they exist at all.

“Yeah,” he whispers back. It's not much of an answer, but it's all he has. He locks his eyes onto Nick's, though, and tries to show him that way instead.

They snog as Nick snaps his hips quicker and Louis reaches down to pull his knees back, letting him get deeper, as deep as he can. A hand slips between their bodies and slides down to grip Louis' cock, stroking him gently. He has no thoughts; he can only feel.

“Still good?” he whispers, forehead resting on Louis'.

Louis' toes are curling in the air as Nick fucks him deeply, the hand on his cock bringing him closer and closer. He wraps his legs around Nick's body, freeing his hands so he can hold onto his arms. “I'm close,” Louis whimpers, the words coming out as more breath than anything. “Feels so good, please.”

Nick kisses him again and Louis comes, legs wrapped around Nick's back and fingers digging into his shoulders. He comes and he comes and he's not sure he's actually finished until Nick is pulling out of him a couple minutes later and he finally settles, happy and relaxed.

“God, Lou,” Nick sighs, wiping his forehead, his head shaking back and forth.

Louis doesn't even know what to say, so he curls into Nick instead, pressing his forehead to the warm skin of the man's chest and he breathes. Nick lets him rest there for a while, but when he finally pulls him up, he searches Louis' face for who knows what. Maybe he's looking for something, too.

“Balcony?” he asks softly, his eyelids fluttering shut and his lips falling onto Louis'.

“In a minute,” Louis replies, pressing his lips into Nick's a bit more.

They're barely even kissing, but Louis loves the way Nick's lips feel under his, loves how cushiony and warm they are.

Soon, Nick's dragging Louis out of bed and they're waddling out into the cold air wrapped in blankets and nothing else and Louis thinks he really likes it here. Even with Mary Frances staring at him through the glass door, he really, really likes it here.

 

**Four.**

Louis is on another dark patio, sitting on another dark step, wondering why all of these houses seem to look alike. It's colder tonight than it was four weeks ago, though, and his breath clouds out in front of him with each exhale. He's not smoking this time and he pulls his sleeves down over his hands, the wool scratching his skin.

Louis hears the door open behind him, but the air isn't filled with the sounds of obnoxious party goers, so he thinks he knows who it is. As Nick steps up next to him, he's proven right.

“Hey,” he says, smiling carefully as he descends the two steps and stands in front of Louis on the grass below. “What are you doing out here? It's bloody cold.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets, his shoulders set in a tight line, and Louis peers up at him.

“Thinking,” he answers, offering a small smile.

“You think too much.” Nick kicks his leg out, tapping his shoe against Louis' shin. “It's there on your palm.”

Louis can't help but notice the thickness of the air between them, like it's flooded with the things they're not addressing. Nick almost seems nervous, like he knows it's there, too, but he doesn't know what to do about it.

“I think-” Louis starts, his voice coming out more quietly than he'd planned. “I think I found something that night. With you.”

It's the sort of statement that doesn't necessarily mean much on the surface, but Nick seems to understand, seems to know that it actually means quite a lot. He breathes out a long breath before he starts pacing slowly in small, disjointed shapes over the grass. He's nervous, Louis can see that.

“Yeah,” he whispers, almost like a sigh. “Shit.”

Maybe Louis should have expected it. Maybe he should have known that Nick would pull away from something like that. It was probably there on his palm all along, but Louis hadn't known what to look for.

“I can't- I can't do that,” he says, staring at the grass, hands still buried in his pockets. “I don't even know what that is, but I know I can't do it.”

Louis nods because he kind of knew that about Nick already. He kind of knew he was the type to run away from any acknowledgement of feelings. And Louis is that type, too, but something about Nick makes him feel brave. He just wants him to know he's important.

“Could've guessed as much, I suppose,” he says, kicking his heel against the wooden stair beneath him and letting the seconds pass by as the air grows thicker and thicker. “Think I'll go then.”

He stands slowly and steps around Nick, walking around the side of the house toward his car before a gentle hand is pulling him to stop and he's slowly pushed back against the side of the house.

“Sorry,” Nick says quietly before pressing a kiss to Louis' lips.

Louis kisses him, pulling him in closer, and maybe it'll be the last kiss and maybe it won't. He doesn't know and it doesn't matter right now. He just kisses him, then walks away through the shadows because he may have found something, but apparently Nick didn't.

At least he got out before his heart could actually be broken.

 

**Five.**

“Why are you so mopey lately?” Harry asks in the van on the way home from an interview.

Nighttime is just touching the sky, dark settling in slowly and Louis is fixated on in, watching the shift from pink to orange to black.

“Quiet isn't mopey,” he says without taking his eyes off the sky. People really are obsessed with it. He wonders why that is, thinks of infinities and forevers, and guesses that everyone is probably just fascinated with the things they can never really figure out. He understands that.

“You're mopey,” he says again, resting his chin on Louis' shoulder.

Liam and Zayn are asleep and Niall is up front with the driver, and Louis turns to Harry, thinking. He hates that he misses Nick so much.

“Do you believe in palm reading?” he asks, leaning his head against Harry's shoulder, letting the younger boy wrap his arm around him.

“Is that why you're mopey? Did you go to a psychic? Did they tell you you're going to die or something?”

“I didn't go to a bloody psychic,” he sighs, holding onto Harry's waist. “Just answer the question.”

“I don't know. Never thought about it. I suppose, maybe.”

Louis nods and tries to let the hum of the engine lull him to sleep, but his head is too full of colourful, jumbled thoughts to be successful.

“Nick and I have been fooling around for a month. Well, we were until last week,” he says, his eyes closed. “Thought you should know.”

The next few minutes go too quickly and too many questions are thrown at him for him to keep up. Yes, Nick Grimshaw. At that party you dragged me to in Highgate. Yes, that's where I was all those nights when I was out. No, not anymore. I told him I'd found something and he told me he couldn't.

It's like rapid fire and Louis just lies against Harry's chest and answers the questions quietly as they're spat out quickly.

“So that's why you're mopey? You broke up?”

“Can't break up when you're not in a relationship,” he says, trying not to roll his eyes at Harry's innocence. “And I'm not mopey.”

He's really not. He's just trying to figure things out. He just thinks too much.

And, yeah, maybe he does get his heart broken easily.

 

**Six.**

Louis is sitting in bed with his computer when a soft knock sounds at his door. Assuming it's Harry, he calls for him to come in, only to see Nick walking timidly into his bedroom when he looks up.

“Hey,” Louis says, startled.

“Is this okay?” Nick asks, taking a step into the room. “Me being here?”

Louis has no idea why he's here, but he shuts his laptop and sets it on the bedside table, sitting up straight.

“Sure, yeah,” he says hesitantly, still curious. “Have a seat, I guess?”

Nick closes the door behind him and shuffles over to the bed, sitting on it at the far corner and tucking his long legs underneath him. Nick's never been in his room. Louis wishes he'd cleaned it.

“Shit, I'm sorry for just showing up,” he says, looking anywhere but at Louis. “I should've called, but I didn't know what to say, really.”

“Why are you here then?” Because if he didn't know what to say on the phone, how is being in Louis' bedroom going to help him figure it out?

“Wanted to see you,” he says quietly, flicking his eyes up to meet Louis' for a brief moment before they're off again, scanning his surroundings. “And maybe try to clear things up?”

It's been a couple of weeks since Nick told him he couldn't and Louis really has missed him. He's not about to jump into the man's arms or anything, but having him here on his bed is nice. He relaxes a little, feels the constant vibration of his thoughts slow down as he waits to see what Nick has to say.

“Yeah?” he encourages, finally catching Nick's gaze again and holding it steady.

“Yeah, I- I realized what a prat I was that night. I've been thinking about it and I realized you never actually said you wanted long term or commitment or anything, but I got a little spooked and assumed that was what you were looking for.”

Louis squints at the comforter beneath his feet, picking at the white fabric distractedly as he thinks that over.

“Was it? Was that what you were looking for?”

Was it? He doesn't think so. Whatever he wants, it's not a pretty label to wear and it's not a promise or a forever. He just wants to be.

“No,” he answers, lost in the blanket of white beneath him. “No, I just wanted to feel something, I think. Still do.”

“And I make you feel something?”

Louis nods, smiling a bit in spite of himself. He thinks about Nick's bed and his balcony and his awful cat and he feels warm somehow. He feels comfortable.

“But you don't want more than that?”

Louis is still smiling a careful smile as he looks up, shaking his head. “Nah,” he whispers. There's not really much else to say.

Nick searches his face for a long moment before he slowly moves closer until he's kneeling next to Louis. With a hand on Louis' chest, he pushes him back against the bed and drops beside him. Long arms wrap around Louis' waist and he's pulled closer until they're pressed together. Louis has missed the way Nick smells and he closes his eyes, breathing in the scent and letting the last of his buzzing thoughts melt away until everything is a calm grey.

“I really like being with you,” Nick whispers, his forehead pressed into Louis'. “Can we go back to that? Can we just- can we just spend time together again?”

Louis has no grudge to bear. He isn't bitter and he has no reason to be. And maybe they needed this because now it's fairly clear that they both want the same thing and neither has to worry that they've got it wrong. So, he nods, wrapping an arm around Nick's waist, too, pulling him even closer.

“Can I kiss you?” Nick asks, his breath warm and inviting where it tickles Louis' cheek.

Louis doesn't bother answering the question before he pushes forward, clinging to Nick's lips with his own. It's as good as ever and he actually smiles into the kiss, feeling Nick's lips curl up, too, before they fall deeper into it, tongues meeting between them. Louis pulls Nick over him, shifting onto his back, and he's happier than he has been in weeks.

He definitely feels something with Nick. And, for once, he's not worried about figuring out what it is.

 

**Seven.**

Louis falls back against Nick's chest as he slides down on Nick's cock with his trousers around his thighs. It doesn't allow for much flexibility, but it was so hot having Nick shove them down and fuck him right there on the balcony that he can't complain about his inability to spread his legs.

“God,” he breathes, bouncing slowly on Nick's lap, breathing in frozen air with each gasping breath.

Nick's mouth is open against Louis' neck and he's holding Louis against him as Louis rocks his hips, legs shaking below him. He can feel the warm chest shuddering with uneven breaths where it's pressed into his back and Louis brings his hand up to hold onto Nick's over his stomach as he rides his way closer to orgasm.

“You feel good,” Nick rasps in his ear, dropping his free hand to touch Louis' cock lightly. “Fuck, you feel so good everywhere.”

Louis does feel good. He feels fucking amazing.

“Make me come,” he whimpers, wanting more friction on his cock to match the friction inside.

When Nick grips him properly, fingers sliding along his length, he shudders, pressing back against Nick's chest harder. He comes soon after, muscles jerking as he gasps out air that clouds in front of him. His fingers slip between Nick's and he feels both his and Nick's nails scraping against his stomach as Nick comes, too, buried inside.

This is all he really wanted. He just wanted to feel something.

 

**Eight.**

Louis pulls the blanket tighter, burying himself up to his neck, letting Nick's chest radiate warmth over his back. It's another cold night, autumn apparently having firmly taken hold of London. They're back on Nick's patio and they finished smoking ten minutes ago, but the temperature hasn't scared them inside yet, too comfortable under the fluffy blanket to move.

“I have a work thing Friday night, so I can't see you,” Nick says, his chin hooked over Louis' shoulder, lips moving against his cheek as he speaks.

“We're out of the country this weekend,” Louis responds, looking out at the city as Nick's fingers trail over his stomach under the blanket, dipping underneath his shirt to trace his belly button. “Leaving early Friday. Won't be back until Monday, I think. Then we leave again Thursday for a couple days.”

The way Nick's palm glides up over his ribs, fingers curling around his side, makes him feel safe somehow. He knows it's foolish, but it doesn't keep him from relaxing back into Nick's embrace, giving up a bit of the control he's so keen on having at all times.

They've been fooling around for a couple of months now and it's obvious to both of them that it's more than that, but Louis isn't sure how much more. He hasn't figured it out yet, but he still doesn't really care. At least not when Nick's arms are wrapped around him.

“Hey,” Nick says, curling his hand further around Louis' side, fingers settling into the curve of Louis' waist. “Stop leaving the country all the bloody time.”

It's the closest thing Louis has gotten to an “I miss you” and the words feel warm where they sink into him, swelling gently in his chest. He smiles into the darkness, dropping his head back onto Nick's shoulder.

“Stop leaving me alone in your bed every morning then,” he counters.

As they sit there, Nick's cold lips press chaste kisses against the curve of his neck, dotting along the slope. Then, the lips part and he has a warm, wet mouth pressing into his skin, making him feel even warmer, even safer.

When they finally make it back inside, Louis sprawls out on his stomach and, as he's drifting off, he feels slender fingers lightly pinching each of his fingertips one at a time. By the time he falls asleep, they're just resting there, fingertips against fingertips, a little reminder that, whatever this is, it might be important.

When he wakes up the following morning, he opens his bleary eyes and stretches out in the empty bed. He doesn't have much to do that day, but he thinks he'll head home and see what Harry's up to. Maybe do some laundry or something.

Hopping out of bed, he heads down the hall to have a wee and brush his teeth. Then, he showers and makes his way back into Nick's room, drying his hair with a towel. There, he finds that his overnight bag has been claimed as a bed for Nick's princess of a cat. She looks quite content atop the bag on the floor, staring up at Louis with her head resting on her paw. As soon as he approaches her, she lifts her head and, Louis will swear on his life, the stupid cat glares at him.

He backs up a bit, frowning to himself, then grabs his phone to snap a quick picture. He sends it along to Nick with a short message attached.

_guess i'm raiding your closet.._

As he's pulling an oversized white jumper over his head, his phone buzzes on the bed and he pushes the sleeves up from where they've fallen down over his hands to pick it up.

_or you could stay naked xx_

_too late creep x_

He spends the morning in the jumper and a pair of Nick's boxers, listening to bits of Nick's show and slipping out onto the balcony to breathe in the crisp air for a while. Even though it's still bloody cold, the balcony has become his favourite place. Something about being out in the world, but so far away from it, appeals to him. He can watch the busy streets below without having to talk to anyone.

Louis has done so much talking. He needs a bit of silence.

He doesn't even realize half the day has passed by when Nick slips out onto the balcony, bending over the back of Louis' chair. Louis smiles up, tipping his head back.

“Mary Frances really does like your bag,” he murmurs, bent over, then clumsily kisses him upside down. “Maybe she's grown attached to you.”

It makes Louis wonder for just a moment if Nick has grown attached, too. As Louis stands and Nick smiles down at the jumper his small frame is drowning in, he thinks maybe he has. Nick kisses his lips, then drops to place a handful of kisses along Louis' exposed collarbone where the huge jumper has slipped down over his shoulder.

“Glad you're still here,” he mumbles into the skin.

Yeah, maybe he's grown attached. And maybe Louis has, too. But he smiles to himself as Nick's lips travel over his neck because it really doesn't matter. They are what they are and Louis is in no rush to change that.

 

**Nine.**

Louis is in one of those Nordic countries- he can't tell the difference between them- and it's even colder than it was when he left London. He's had a long day of smiling and talking and signing his name, which doesn't even look or feel like his name anymore. It doesn't mean anything when he moves the pen over the paper in that memorized pattern; it's just a scribble of ink that will be thrown away in a year or two when the fidgety girl in front of him moves on. He doesn't know what the point is.

His work self and his real self have started to split off from each other rather drastically. He's grown quiet away from the crowds, just trying to figure things out and make some sense of his life. So, when he throws on his public persona for the cameras and the fans, it starts to feel like it doesn't quite fit the way it used to. Maybe he's outgrown that particular costume.

He tries to sit on the balcony off of his hotel room for a while, but the cold drives him inside and he spreads out on the bed, grabbing his phone and tapping the familiar name before he can think about whether or not it's a thing he should actually be doing.

“Hey,” Nick answers quietly after two rings. The softness of his voice tells Louis that he has also stripped away his own public persona and it's just them now.

“It's really cold here,” he says, forgoing a polite greeting. They don't need polite anymore. It's just them.

“I like the cold.”

Louis nods to himself. He likes the cold, too, likes the sharp pain under his skin. He likes feeling things. “I like the cold with you.”

Nick hesitates for a long moment and Louis can practically hear him thinking. He wishes he wouldn't. Louis is so tired of thinking; he just wants to be.

“I still can't, you know,” he finally says, his voice so quiet and tight, like there are other words trying to escape around the ones he's saying, but he's pulling them back in.

“I still don't want you to,” he says, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think. “I just want to keep this.”

After a long silence, he gets his “I miss you” but then Nick rushes to say goodbye, saying he has to get to sleep. Louis smiles as he says goodbye, too, and curls up under the covers. He tries to tell himself that none of it really means anything; none of it is really important. But then he forces himself to stop thinking about it altogether, pushing the thoughts away as he relaxes into sleep.

He's tired of thinking; he just wants to _be_. But he wants to _be_ with Nick.

 

**Ten.**

“Can't you make her stop watch- _oh fuck_ ,” Louis moans as he drops down heavily on Nick's cock, head dropping back as everything lines up perfectly.

“You'd watch, too, if you could see what you look like right now,” Nick answers, sliding his hands up from Louis' hips, framing his sides. “Can't really blame her.”

Louis blocks out thoughts of the cat as he moves his hips, holding onto the feeling, loving the drag of Nick inside him. He bites his lip as Nick's hand lowers to stroke him and he's already so close, so hard, and he panics.

“No, no, don't want to come yet,” he whines, his chest shaking as he puffs his breath out.

“Sure you do, come on. Relax, love.”

Louis' lip trembles as Nick runs a comforting hand over his side, fingers still moving along his cock. It's moments like these that make him feel alive, like maybe he's starting to figure things out a bit. It's these moments that scare the shit out of him when he's back at his place or in an empty hotel room because he literally wants nothing more right now. He's never felt that before.

“Nick,” he breathes, dropping his chin to look into his eyes, finding Nick staring without shame, like Louis is his to look at.

He does relax as he keeps Nick's gaze. He stops fighting it off and lets it wash over him, coming across Nick's stomach with his eyes open and trained on Nick's. He's _really_ never felt this before.

Nick comes soon after with Louis lazily rocking his hips and, when Louis finally lifts off of him, he falls onto the bed next to him.

When they find their breath, they throw on the nearest clothing they can find and Louis follows Nick out onto the balcony. He steps up next to him and leans his elbows against the railing, looking out over the city. He thinks people do change at night, like the darkness makes them feel like they're hidden and they can be themselves for a little while without worrying about who will see it.

“Why aren't you fucking terrified?” Nick asks quietly, flicking his cigarette over the railing, letting the ashes flutter on the air, drifting away from them.

“Of this?”

He sees Nick nodding, staring out at the street below them and Louis thinks about that for a moment. He should be, he realizes. He should be terrified and sometimes he is, but Nick's never seen it because it only happens when he's alone and starts thinking again.

“You're the only one who makes me stop thinking so much,” Louis answers with a shrug, taking a short drag from his cigarette.

Nick doesn't respond to that and they smoke in a comfortable silence until Louis smashes his cigarette into the ashtray next to him, then goes back to watching the city. He likes the lights and the distant voices, likes being so detached from it.

Nick slips behind him after finishing his cigarette, too, and his arms wrap around Louis' waist as they look out together. He doesn't ever want to move.

“I found something that night, too,” he whispers behind Louis' ear, breath tickling over Louis' short hairs there. “Wasn't looking for anything, but I found it anyway.”

Louis smiles, dropping a hand to rest over Nick's arm, and he draws patterns against the skin with his thumb as his eyes follow a lorrie rolling down the street below.

He _was_ looking for something. He just didn't know it was Nick.

 

**Eleven.**

Louis is sitting in Nick's living room, glaring at Harry because he and the princess, Mary Frances, appear to be bonding quite nicely.

“Nick, I'm stealing your cat,” he calls over his shoulder toward where Nick is gathering drinks.

“Please do,” Louis says gruffly, before he realizes that Harry is his roommate and that would solve exactly none of his problems. “Or maybe not. Maybe Niall would like her. Or Zayn.”

“Oh, you're just a grump. Look at her sweet little face!”

The cat preens and rubs against Harry's leg, then flops down on her back so Harry can rub her belly. Louis is just in awe because he's never seen the damn cat do anything other than glare for hours on end.

“Oh, sure, she's all cuddles and cuteness now, but wait until you're trying to give a blowjob and she tries to push you away. Not so cute then.”

Harry squawks and throws a horrified expression toward Louis just as Nick walks into the room. Harry returns his attention to the cat, rubbing her chin as Nick doles out cold beers.

“Nick, Louis is telling me about your sexual activity. Please make him stop,” he says, then makes a kissy face at the awful creature on his lap.

Nick grins, leaning down over the chair Louis is in and hands him a beer, stopping for a quick kiss. “Harry can't handle our sexual activity, love. He'll have nightmares for weeks.” He sits in the free seat on the couch and Louis sighs, leaning back.

As they talk, Louis wishes he was closer, wishes he was touching Nick, but he's also startled to realize that he likes this, too. He likes sitting there, listening to Harry and Nick talk about their hipster crowd, referring to people Louis doesn't know and clubs he's never been to. He likes studying the way Nick is in this moment, halfway between his public persona and the Nick that Louis knows, the one that's quiet and honest and kind.

“Louis hates that club. Got sick in the toilets there, remember?”

Louis doesn't know what they're talking about, lost in low, buzzing thoughts edged in grey. “What club?”

“The Seven or whatever it's called. The one with the mojitos?”

Louis remembers now. He hadn't been warned that more than a couple of mojitos was a recipe for disaster and had barely made it to the toilets before his body had ejected the last three drinks he'd downed.

“Oh, god, yeah. Awful place, that is.”

“So, you're not going then?” Harry asks, still absently petting the cat on his lap. Louis can actually hear the fucker purring from several feet away.

“Going where?” Louis asks, confused.

Harry sighs and then rolls his eyes for good measure. “Don't you listen to anything?”

“My party for work, babe,” Nick cuts in, softer. “It's next weekend. You should come. You know, with me. And preferably not get sick.”

He's quiet and Louis is quiet and Harry's too busy cooing at Mary Frances to notice the change. Louis gazes at Nick for a long moment, his lip twitching up a bit as he finally nods.

“Sure. It's a date.”

 

**Twelve.**

Louis' hand is in Nick's and he's trying to ignore that it's a thing as they dip through the doorway into the loud club. Nick leads him straight to the back where the VIP room is roped off for the party and Louis holds on tightly as they navigate through the crowd.

Nick gives their names and Louis still holds on as they enter the room filled with Nick's coworkers and friends, adjusting his shirt if only to give himself something to focus on. Nick waves some greetings and Louis knows he's with public persona Nick tonight, but there's a thumb gently grazing over his finger that's reminding him that it's still the Nick he's grown so used to.

He drinks champagne and chats with a few people he sort of knows from past visits to the station while Nick makes the rounds and properly greets people. Louis still isn't sure what this party is for, but he's getting the sense that they'll use any excuse to throw a party at Radio 1. Maybe it's the janitor's half-birthday or something.

Each time he's questioned about his appearance here with Nick, asked what it means, Louis manages to sidestep the question. His replies are vague enough that they stop pushing for information and eventually move on, discussing another piece of juicy gossip instead. It's not that Louis is hiding something; it's just that he doesn't really have the answers and he doesn't feel the need to figure them out.

When the noise in the room builds and Louis has made enough small talk to last him a few weeks, he looks up to see Nick sneaking a glance at him over a tall blonde lad's shoulder. Louis smiles and points to the door, then holds his fingers to his mouth to indicate that he's heading out for a smoke.

He's made it out of the door and halfway up a little staircase when a hand is on his arm and Nick's there, walking with him. The patio is long and people are huddled around the big space heaters at one end, so Nick pulls Louis to the other end. They like the cold.

“You're bored, aren't you?” Nick asks, sticking a cigarette between his lips. “God, _I'm_ bored and I actually know these people.”

Nick lights his cigarette, then moves the flame to light Louis'. It's loud at the other end of the patio, but they've found a nice little shadowy corner to tuck into and the noise seems distant and muffled.

“I'm fine, really,” Louis offers, swinging his arms around Nick's neck and tipping his head back a bit to look up at him. “They're all very nice.”

Nick twists his lips and narrows his eyes like he doesn't believe him and dips down to press their lips together. It's a quick kiss, just a peck, but then he presses in again like he can't help it. Louis pushes up onto his toes to deepen the kiss until they're snogging slowly, burning cigarettes forgotten between their fingers. After a few swipes of Nick's tongue against his own, Louis desperately wants to get back to his flat.

“Stop,” Louis whispers, pulling back just a bit. “We have a party to enjoy. I can't get hard.”

Nick's low chuckle makes Louis smile, pressing in for one more chaste kiss before he drops back onto his heels and pulls the filter of his cigarette between his lips.

When they're done smoking, Louis goes to lead them back inside, but Nick holds onto him, slipping his arms under Louis' coat and hugging him close. Louis knows they should get back in, but he melts into Nick's arms there in the shadows and rests his head against the taller man's chest. He feels warm, even in the frigid cold.

They stand there like that until a handful of Nick's friends show up, breaking up the quiet with their wolf whistles and loud teasing about Grimmy going soft on them. Louis smiles along, especially when Nick keeps a hand under Louis' jacket, pressed into the small of his back.

They stay by each other's sides for the rest of the night.

When they get home, they strip off their wind-chilled clothes and get into bed, pressing together to warm up. Louis wonders when Nick's bedroom started feeling something like home.

They snog until Nick has Louis pressed back into the soft sheets and everything is grey again, all fuzzy and nice. Nick is half on top of him, leaning into him, and the pressure is just enough to ensure that Louis can feel it. He likes feeling things.

“Let me see your hand,” Nick says, voice quiet and rough from talking too much all night.

Louis scrunches his eyebrows curiously, but pulls his arm up, dropping his hand on his own stomach for Nick to grab. Nick just kisses him again, his thumb sliding over Louis' palm, tickling over the creases there.

“You don't talk about your emotions a lot,” he whispers between kisses, tracing a line on Louis' hand. “That part was right, wasn't it?”

Louis sinks into Nick's gaze as they pull apart and he nods, biting his lip the way he does when he's holding words back.

“I don't either.” Nick looks for a while, then quirks the corner of his lip up in a small smile, leaning in to press a short kiss into Louis' lips. “What I found that night, it's real, you know?”

Louis knows. Whatever it is, it's not just sex or infatuation. It's something that wraps around them when they're together, pulling them closer. It's something that has changed Louis, something that has made him understand himself better. It's fucking huge, whatever it is. It's important.

“Yeah. It really is.”

“I still can't, with some things,” he says, pulling back to peer into Louis' eyes. “You get that, right?”

Louis rolls his eyes, a fond smile on his face.

“I've been trying to figure myself out all this time, but I think I've accidentally figured you out instead,” he says, butting his forehead into Nick's shoulder. “I know you can't and maybe I can, who knows. But, either way, I don't want to. I just want this.”

As they settle in to sleep, he thinks that this really is all he wants. Because whatever this is, it's perfect.

Then he feels a paw digging painfully into his ribs and a furry beast falling heavily onto his chest and he scowls into the darkness, rethinking his use of the word 'perfect'.


End file.
